


Practice to Deceive

by lost_spook



Category: Spooks | MI-5
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, F/F, Ficlet, No Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:39:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5771653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not only Harry who’s preoccupied with a certain person, it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practice to Deceive

**Author's Note:**

> For the Trope Bingo square "love triangle".

“Harry’s a bastard,” she says, running a hand through Ruth’s hair, now that she’s pulled it lose from its clasp. She tugs her down further, onto the bed with her.

Ruth’s breathless, a little flustered next to her, but that’s only usual, Geraldine knows. “I don’t want to talk about that now,” Ruth says. “The Iranian Embassy leak, though –”

“Who cares about the Iranians?” murmurs Geraldine, kissing her cheek, and moving down to her neck. She’s not letting up now she’s so close to what she’s been after for a while. It’s difficult to pry Ruth away from Section D.

Ruth doesn’t protest, or not much. She only says, and she sounds a little unsteady, just a trifle drunk, “This wasn’t the plan.”

“You’re a naïve darling,” says Geraldine, and laughs. “Of course it was.”

 

She wakes in the early hours of the morning to catch Ruth, talking on the phone in a whisper. To Harry, of course, Geraldine thinks. Or maybe not directly, maybe it’s Erin or Calum or Dmitri, but it’s the same thing. 

“Polka,” Ruth says, before she turns her head and catches Geraldine watching. She turns the phone off. “You talk in your sleep, would you believe?”

Geraldine shakes her head.

“Went through your pockets,” says Ruth. It’s not even an apology. She shrugs. “Force of habit. And I wasn’t that drunk, either. Sorry. We needed the information.”

Geraldine lies flat against the pillows and smiles at the ceiling, before giving another laugh. “Of course you did. And I needed you to have it, but if I handed it over – well, Harry would only have been suspicious.”

“Really?” says Ruth, and she’s caught her out, this once, Geraldine can see. It pleases her and makes her heart ache a little. Sometimes, every once in a while, she’d like to have a few more things in her life that aren’t part of the game.

“Let’s just say that the temptation was too much for me,” she says. “We all have our weaknesses.”

Ruth hesitates and then crosses back over, sitting on the edge of the bed. Geraldine feels it shift under her weight. “Last night,” she says. “When you said Harry was a bastard – well, obviously I’d disagree, but it’s not like that, is it? Love, I mean. You can’t measure it out by decency or morals, not once you’ve begun. It doesn’t work like that.”

Like the service, too, thinks Geraldine. You weigh up the options and take the path that causes the least damage, morals be damned. But she watches Ruth as she stands up, ready to make her escape, and she feels that edge of an ache again, and says, “Maybe, just maybe, sometimes you can,” she says, looking directly at the other woman. _Maybe you could save me_ , she thinks, but it’s a ridiculous idea. She doesn’t even know what she means by it.

“I’ll, er, see you about sometime,” says Ruth, suddenly awkward at the door. She’s not really in the habit of indulging in one night stands, it’s clear. “And, um, it was – something of an education. I mean – thanks.”

Geraldine forgets her melancholy thoughts and laughs, and she’s still smiling for a long while before she goes back to sleep, because she got exactly what she wanted and she knows full well that Ruth’s not really sorry for it, either. If she hadn’t wanted it, or been curious, or whatever it was that pushed her into going farther than she’d meant, pass code be damned, she would never have stayed the night.

 _Harry, though_ , Geraldine thinks wryly, _it’s always bloody Harry . . ._


End file.
